Choke
by Trisha
Summary: Just how prophetic was Buffy’s speech at the end of Bring on the Night? Set at the end of season 7. Complete.


Choke- by Trisha  
  
Summary- Just how prophetic was Buffy's speech at the end of Bring on the Night? Set at the end of season 7.

  
Disclaimer- All the usual. It's all Joss's. Not mine. Boo Hoo.  
  
Spoiler Warning- Through Bring on the Night, plus speculation. One aspect might be a spoiler, I'm not quite sure. If you're avoiding spoilers, might want to skip this one just in case.

  
Rating- PG  
  
A/B- This is a one-shot ficlet. Drama/Angst warning.

  
Feedback- Always welcome!

*****

            The mouth to hell gaped before her, open and waiting. Its orange glow stung her eyes as she stared into it. Glowing rock and fire were all she could see; the screams of those who'd been sucked down by the First Evil's demons all she could hear. In the basement room behind her waited her friends, broken but alive. They watched her pause a yard away the lip of the abyss, frozen with bewildered fear. And anticipation. _It waits there, just inside. It waits for me. For the final fight._

            A great wind blew up from the mouth, filling the room with the scents of sulpher, of burning meat, and of something rank and wet, like putrid reptilian flesh. Buffy shuddered once, closing off her mind to all thoughts save one: the hellmouth had to be closed. She knew how to do it. In a flash, her words to the gang months earlier came out her mouth in a whisper directed towards the First. "The mouth of Hell will swallow me- swallow me whole. And it will choke on me."

            "No."

            Buffy didn't turn around to see who spoke. She didn't need to and though she was strong enough to face hell, strong enough to do what needed to be done to save the world _again_, she did not know if she was strong enough to look into his eyes and say what had to be said. Letting her stake fall to the dirt, she clenched her fists at her sides, readying herself.  "Spike… this is the work I have to do."

            She heard a scraping sound behind her and knew he was trying to get to his feet, trying to stop her. Looking over her shoulder, she met his wild eyes with her calm gaze and said, "Don't worry about me. I've been here before. Death is not a bad place. Not that I want this. Life… it's been good, not counting the apocalypse. You and I… it's been… we've been good. Beyond good. And I…" Swallowing hard, she kept her eyes steady and hot on his, trying to penetrate his panic, trying to make him believe her words as she did. "I'll be waiting."

            "No," he growled. He struggled to a stand, his hands cupping the gaping wound at his waist. "No waiting. No hell. This can't happen again." He turned his terrified face down to Willow, Xander, Dawn and Faith who were lying sprawled on the ground. "You hear me? Not again! Tell her!"

            "Spike…" Buffy's voice broke, but her sorrow was all for him. _He doesn't understand. Of course not. He loves me- how could he accept this? But I do. I have to. I am the Slayer and I know what that means now. _"I'm sorry. I wish… I wish so much, but wishes don't matter. The world matters. Dawn matters, and Xander and Will. Faith. And you."

Xander, half-conscious, drew Dawn and Willow against him protectively. Dawn sobbed silently, her bloodied head in her hands. Willow's expression was drawn and bleak. There was no sympathy in her, nothing soft, no regret; her look said she'd seen too much and lost too much to argue. It was Willow who shook her head and risked the words. "Buffy knows what needs to be done, Spike. It's her calling. You have to let her… you have to say good-bye."  

"Not an option." Staggering forward, Spike grabbed Faith's arm and pulled her to her feet. "You're a Slayer! Save her."

Faith flinched but did not pull away from his hard grasp. She licked her cracked and bleeding lips. "She doesn't want me to."

"And it's all up to her? No. This is not going to happen. Not again." He rushed Buffy, his body bent low, preparing to tackle her. 

She met his attack with a punch to his face that sent him flying back. "Sorry," she told him, her eyes bright with tears. Below her feet, the hellmouth rumbled. _It's hungry. It's waiting for me._ "I'm so sorry. Listen to me, Spike. This thing opens more, it'll swallow the whole world. Including you, including me. You know that."

Clutching the wall to stay upright, Spike roared, "I know _nothing_! You hear me, pet? Nothing that means you not waking up on this planet every morning. Nothing that means you're gone from… gone from me. There's another way. Isn't there always?" He gave his head a furious shake, trying to think clearly enough to convince her. "You want to choke the bloody First Evil, you use something else. Someone else. Where's Andrew? Or- or…"

"No." With unnatural serenity, she held out her hand to him and took his. Stroking her thumb across his knuckles, she kissed them as the walls began to shake. A growing roar came from the hellmouth. "It's gotta be me. The Slayer. And it's gotta be now."

            She gave his hand a final squeeze and forced herself to meet his eyes. They were tightly shut, swollen from the beatings he'd taken in the battle, and wet, very wet, though she doubted he realized he was crying. "We'll dance again someday," she told him and released his hand. 

Whirling around, she took a deep breath and ran for the opening, preparing to dive inside. _Choke and die, you bastard,_ she thought as she ran. She could hear cries behind her: Dawn's shrill sobs, Xander's low moan of grief, Spike's wordless, anguished roar, Willow's staccato gasps. Everything else blurred in her concentration on the red opening before her. 

            Then, just as she was about the jump, something rammed forcefully against her back. The blow knocked her away from the hellmouth. Falling on her back, she could not keep her head from slamming against the ground. She sat up, blinking hard. Dizziness darkened her vision but she could see Faith standing before her.

            Bending down low, Faith pressed a kiss against Buffy's cheek. "My turn," she said. She forced a brave smile and pressing her cheek to Buffy's hair. "You stay. You've got a good thing going here, Buff." Her breath was hot against Buffy's ear. "Don't screw it up with him. This is a gift for the two of you. My gift. Use it, dammit."

            She pushed Buffy back down and ran before Buffy could stop her, her long hair flowing behind her in a dark ribbon. "Use it!" she shouted over her shoulder and she dove into the mouth without pause.

            Buffy scrambled forward in a crawl, her hands clawing over the dirt. _She didn't… how could she…_"Faith!" As she reached the edge, the hellmouth closed. Nothing remained where it had been. 

            Pressing her hands against the dirt- _it's hot, so hot where she is­_- Buffy bowed her head. _It was supposed to be me. My fight, my Evil. It killed my Watcher, hurt my friends, and it was supposed to choke on me, choke to the death. Me, not her. Death is_** _my _**_gift._

            Strong hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her back against a hard, familiar chest. "Buffy," Spike said, holding her, keeping her steady. "Buffy."

            She could not resent the relief in his voice. _She did this for us. For him._ "I'm here," she gasped, gulping spasmodically to keep down the bile that threatened to rise up her throat. "Thanks to her." She pivoted in his arms and buried her face in the curve of his neck. Safe, loved, she let go of the tears burning behind her eyes. _It's over. I am alive, and it's over._

            They did not move for a long time.


End file.
